One month ago I joined a movement, Wear A Hijab in April, to commemorate the brutal murder of a Muslim woman, Shaima Alawadi. Women around the world were committing to wear a hijab for the month of April, to walk in the footsteps of hijabistas, and to pay tribute to Shaima and all women who were victims of hate crimes. Initially it was believed that Shaima's death had been the result of a hate crime. Currently it appears that her death is now being considered domestic violence.
That her death was not a hate crime did not deter me from wanting to pay tribute to this woman, as a representative of all women who die as a result of hatred and anger. I wanted Shaima's death to stand for something positive, and maybe that would help ease the sadness for her family as they grieved.
This initiative grew in meaning over the month. It was the perfect opportunity to get to know how it felt to wear a head scarf daily, to conform to the rules of modesty that devout Muslim women follow. It was also a chance to share the information I was learning with other people and maybe break down some stereotypes, creating a more supportive network not just for hijabistas, but all women. We are sisters, and learning to appreciate one another is a positive step forward.
From a religious perspective I discovered that a hijab is meant to convey modesty, not unlike the way I was raised by my mother. In her time women wore head coverings when entering a religious building, dressed modestly (if you were a 'good' girl), and tried to live their lives honestly, in service to others, and in faith to their religious beliefs. My mother was Christian. She expected the same of me. Muslim women follow that same basic principle too.
The fact is, when you get past the rhetoric of religion, we aren't that much different in our ideologies. In my humble opinion, we need to find ways to compromise, to take into consideration the religious sensibilities of the individual, and protect those, while protecting "society". We need to be inclusive when seeking solutions that involve a person's religious beliefs and to create dialogue that allows them to be part of a workable solution for everyone.
When I first put on the hijab, I was hesitant to expose so much of my face. I had heard wearing a hijab would make women blend in together. Whilst that is probably true in a Muslim country, here in Canada it was quite the opposite, and I found myself far more exposed than I had expected. I usually hid behind my long hair, so wearing a hijab took a bit of getting used to! Each day, however, what began as a feeling of being different, soon
became something of ease and comfort. I even started shopping for more
scarves!
Thanks to Youtube videos I spent time learning the many ways of wrapping a head scarf. I learned that hijabistas can recognize different groups of people by the way they wrap/wear their hijabs. I also learned that, just as there are a myriad of ways to wrap a hijab to create a unique look for the hijabista, there are also equally a myriad of reasons to wear/not wear hijabs.
This was a particularly difficult month for me, personally, as I dealt with my Dad's cancer. When I first donned the hijab, my boss mentioned that she, too, had tried a hijab and found it "comforting". I couldn't quite understand that at the time, but as I went about my days with my Dad, dealing with the ups and downs of his illness, I began to feel a sense of comfort, feeling as if my hijab were angels wings that wrapped lovingly around me, sheltering me. It really was a most wonderful feeling, and one I certainly needed.
Coming from a small town in Southern Ontario, Canada, I had expected to encounter some negative comments from the locals. I was pleasantly surprised not to receive any negative reactions! It gave me a warm feeling to realize that my community would be welcoming to a Muslim family, and make them feel safe and at home.
Over the month I connected with many different people. Most noteable was the nurse at the hospital, a young Muslim woman, who smiled when she saw me sitting there, the only other hijab-wearing woman on that floor. She thought I was Muslim, but was touched upon finding out my reason for wearing this symbol of her religion. I loved that she and I could connect on this level and find common ground and mutual respect.
I received many private messages of support and gratitude for taking the time to understand and empathize with hijabistas. Some people shared links to sites they hoped would enlighten me in my journey. Whether the comments were public, as on the Facebook page One Million Hijabs for Shaima Alawadi, or in private messages, the fact that people were moved to comment and share information was so inspiring to me. I cherish each comment.
It was clear to me that women become targets of hatred towards Muslims
because they wear such a prominent symbol attributed to their faith.
Wearing a cross, a crucifix, or other small symbol of a religion can be
easily hidden, or simply not noticed. But a hijab-wearing woman stands
out in a way no Muslim man does.
Would I wear a hijab daily for the rest of my life? Probably not, because I like my hair and the freedom of being able to go 'as God made me'. That said, I would definitely wear a hijab if an occasion called for one, and would be honoured to do so. To me, wearing a hijab will always be a way of showing respect for the Muslim faith.
I will always support the choice of women to wear, or not wear, the hijab, or niqab, as they see fit. Just as someone wearing a hoodie shouldn't be labelled a criminal, someone wearing a hijab should not be labelled a terrorist. We must stop fearing the symbols, and understand the problem really is the extremists and fundamentalists who twist religion to suit their own warped views.
Over the month it has been wonderful to see the genuine, normal, girlie, friends-hanging-with-friends dialogue that came out of this. There were many moments of kindness, friendship, compassion and sharing. When you become friends, you don't hate. You protect your friends. You celebrate them! This month, I celebrated Muslim women, and it has been truly enlightening.
What began as a way to pay tribute to a woman's tragic death has become a renewed desire for dialogue on many issues: hate crimes, honour killing, domestic violence towards women, freedom of choice. Women are sharing their stories, learning about each other, educating one another, and becoming friends in the process. I look forward to continuing the dialogue, the sharing, and making wonderful new friends.
Final photo: me, at work, in my lovely beaded scarf. Saved the best for last!
